


the wait between

by sorrydearie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, i think this may be the first fic in keenler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrydearie/pseuds/sorrydearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tossing the gun, holding her, checking her falling pulse, collapsing, calling the ambulance… she was dying.</p>
<p>As if the ache could pass away in an instant and everything would be alright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wait between

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this may not be that good, but I hope you think it's okay?

The first flecks of winter fell majestically upon the palms stretched out in front of him, painted with her blood. The last of the ambulance’s siren rang in his ears, echoing against the hollow of his mind. The other officers reached out to him, nudged his shoulder for the clear explanation of the scene in front of them. For minutes, Donald just wanted to shout his words through their thick skulls, _‘Well figure it out! There’s blood, a gun, a body- you’re trained to do this.’_ But instead bitterness rested in his mouth as he filtered their voices.  
  
 _“She’ll be alright…”_

_Malik, Cooper, James, Sian… not Elizabeth’s._

Hours passed in his head, his spine bruised from the attack, the metal hospital chairs wasn’t comforting in the slightest. He sat there, waiting for a sign that she was okay, that she was alive. He nursed the cuts on his forehead with the hands he held her frail body and carried it away- the blood from her wound seeping through her blouse onto the blue of his shirt. Tracing the patterns of the blood on the shirt he hadn’t changed, he let his mind fall away as he sank down into the cold metal seats, letting the bright white-blue walls nurture his fatigue.

How could he be so careless?  
  
He let Elizabeth in alone without escorts, without back-up, without him! He could picture it, he could paint the details vividly enough that someone would shudder and fall from the thought of it.  
 _  
Gunshot. Second gunshot. Heavy thud. Running towards the house, blood caked on the opposite wall, suspect’s body unconscious on the floor. Soft voice, blood pouring from her stomach. Tossing the gun, holding her, checking her falling pulse, collapsing, calling the ambulance… she was dying._

As if the ache could pass away in an instant and everything would be alright. It wasn’t his fault at all.

\-------------------  
  
She moved minutely at first; fingers flexing upon the thick cotton of her blanket, eyelids fluttering against the sunlight that peaked through the hospital blinds. When they opened her eyes wavered, as if hit suddenly. Elizabeth moved her body upwards, as if gasping for air that was escaping her lungs. She panted before she croaked, “Water… please.” He softly picked up her head and bought a plastic cup of water up to her chapped lips. Gulping it down, she fell back to her pillow and he shuffled away.  
  
Minutes later, the sun had risen, giving a soft warm glow to the room that had pain and sadness written all over it. Her eyes closed, she started, “What happened?”  
  
“Naiger attacked you; you were bleeding profusely from the gunshot, had a three hour long surgery.” Donald sat back down on the chair beside her bed.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault.” She softly replied in the hum of the machines and the drip of the saline running down into her system. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escaped his lips.  
  
“I could’ve come with you, but I didn’t.”  
  
“You’re here with me now. And that’s all what matters.”

He’d forgotten for a moment that Elizabeth Keen was the most magnificent and beautiful person he’d met. “Yeah it does, get some rest.” He quietly stood up and looked at her eyes closing and a ghost of a smile on her lips. He bent down, hovering right above her head for a second too long before his lips brushed against the bruise on her forehead and rested on her hair.  
  
“Goodnight Elizabeth.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to post Keenler, they're fantastic and ugh my otppp  
> Please leave a review and I'd love to know what you think!
> 
> My tumblr: jackdonnelys.tumblr.com


End file.
